


The Diary of Jane

by Maeve_of_Winter



Series: Songs About Jane [4]
Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: Childhood Friends, Dysfunctional Family, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Friends to Enemies, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6836698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By February of ninth grade, Jane Morgan viewed Diana Lynch as her rival. But back in September of first grade, they became friends. </p><p>A backstory explaining the connection, friendship, and eventual (one-sided) rivalry between Diana Lynch and Jane Morgan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Diana, Age 6**

The last few weeks of summer, Diana longs for school to begin. The days seems to stretch out before her, stopping her from getting to what’s waiting for her: the first grade. Her heart thrums in excitement when she thinks of all that it means. No more half-days, like in kindergarten, but full days in the classroom, like the older kids.

When Diana complains to her mother and father that the first day of school is always too far away, they chuckle at her.

“Take it easy, Diana,” her father says, ruffling her hair as she sits by the apartment window, willing the green summer leaves to change to their autumn colors. “Enjoy the summer. School will be here soon enough.”

When school at last draws closer, Diana’s mother gives her a wonderful gift: a lovely dress made by her own hands. The dress is light purple, with pink, white, and dark purple flowers splashed all over it.

“It’s beautiful,” Diana breathes.

Her mother also presents her with a pair of fancy shoes, given to her by the Kerioth family from church.

“Esther Kerioth outgrew them,” Diana’s mother explains. “They don’t have any more girls in their family, so they gave them to you to use.”

The shoes are the prettiest Diana has ever owned. They’re shiny and white, with flowers made of ribbons on the toes that her mother tells her are called “rosettes.”

Finally-- _finally_ , the first day of school arrives. Diana is full of anticipation, and can barely eat breakfast in her excitement.

“Be respectful to your teacher,” her mother tells Diana, kissing her goodbye at the door of Miss Elliman’s classroom at Sleepyside Elementary. “Take care, sweetheart.”

“Goodbye, Mom!” Diana calls, and skips inside the door, ready to have the time of her life.

The day is not all that Diana expects, however.

The teacher, Ms. Elliman, seems old and stern. She does not smile as she addresses the class.

“When I call your name, I will assign you your seat. You will then pick a picture to color and a pack of crayons. You will color your picture quietly, and color them nicely. We will hang them on the bulletin board outside of class. There will be no disruptions, or your name will be written on the chalkboard.” She gazes at them suspiciously, and then begins the seating arrangements.

Several pictures are available to choose from: a teddy bear, a car, and a flower. When her name is called, Diana selects the flower, and then settles at her desk to color.

The colors she picks, though, do not please Ms. Elliman.

“Diana Lynch! Just what do you think you’re doing?” The teacher looks down her nose at Diana.

“Coloring, Ms. Elliman,” Diana answer proudly. She’s going to give the picture to her grandmother once she gets it back from the bulletin board.

“Your flower is the wrong color,” Ms. Elliman informs her tersely. “There are no blue flowers.”

“Yes, there are,” Diana says immediately.

Ms. Elliman’s mouth tightens. “Don’t be impudent, Diana.”

“I’m not!” Diana protests, even though she doesn’t know what “impudent” means. “But there are blue flowers. The Websters have a bush full of them in their garden!”

“Diana, I won’t allow for any more argument!” Ms. Elliman warns her.

“There are blue flowers, though!” Diana insists. “You can ask Tad Webster! He’s in the second grade here.”

“Enough!” Ms. Elliman turns to the chalkboard, grabbing a piece of chalk and scrawling Diana’s name. “I’m writing your name right here so the entire class can be reminded of your misbehavior all day!”

With a heavy heart, Diana sinks down into her seat, feeling her face grow red. Despite her embarrassment, she still hopes things will get better later on.

Ms. Elliman hands out two sheets of paper to each student. “You’ll get a list of states and capitals, and a map of the United States. This exercise is a test of your knowledge about your home country. Label all the states you know, and all the capitals that go with them. Separate your desks. I don’t want anyone copying from their neighbor.”

Diana moves her desk and reaches for the papers, but Ms. Elliman stops her.

“Move your desk further, Diana,” she commands.

Diana complies, but Ms. Elliman interrupts her again.

“Further. Till it’s right up against the wall.”

Once Diana does as ordered, Ms. Elliman leaves her to her task.

But the summer heat isn’t gone, and the elementary school isn’t air-conditioned. Because she’s shifted her desk, Diana is right by the open window, where the muggy air presses down on her. The sun’s rays fall across her and her desk, causing her to feel overheated and making the paper bright white, which hurts her eyes when she looks at it.

No one told her about this part of first grade. No told her the teacher would be grumpy, the flowers would have to be boring, or that she would have to know all the names of the states and capitals. It’s like Miss Elliman expects her to know all sorts of things she’s never been taught.

Eventually, Diana hands in her paper without any writing whatsoever, and Ms. Elliman stares at her in disapproval.

“Back in my day, Diana,” Miss Elliman says severely, “a child who didn’t know their geography would be asked to leave the classroom. A child so slow really wouldn’t be worth the teacher’s time to instruct.”

Diana tries to avoid being noticed by anyone for the rest of the morning.

Things do seem to get better at lunch. Her mother has made her peanut butter crackers, along with cookies baked just for her first day of school, plus an apple and a cheese stick. The cheese stick is what makes Diana the happiest, because she knows that it’s an “extra” snack her parents rarely purchase.

But when she’s leaving lunch, Diana hears a loud whisper as she passes a table full of her classmates.

“You can tell Diana’s dress is homemade. It looks like a _tablecloth_ ,” one of the girls sneers.

Even though she can feel her distress building, Diana resolves not to cry out in the open. Instead, she walks out of the cafeteria, but rather than continuing to the playground doors, she ducks into the nearest bathroom.

Locking herself in a stall, Diana finally lets her tears fall. The first grade is supposed to be fun and exciting and grown-up, but it’s really just a disaster. The teachers are mean, the students are mean, and the work is hard.

A knock on the door of the stall startles Diana, and she quickly wipes at her eyes, embarrassed that she’s been caught crying. She hasn’t even realized anyone else entered the bathroom.

“What is it?” She calls, trying to stop her voice from shaking with her tears.

A pause, and then a girl’s voice. “I heard you crying. Are you okay?”

Swallowing, Diana opens the stall door. Standing before her is a very pretty girl with curly blonde hair who Diana recognizes from her class.

“I’m okay,” she confirms, distracted from her misery by the other girl’s fine clothes.

Diana thinks the girl looks beautiful. Her dress reminds Diana of a princess; it’s light blue with lots of ribbons and has a long and ruffly skirt. Her socks have ruffles, too, and her white shoes have beads and look like they’re made from lace. Combined with the girl’s glossy golden hair that’s held up with all sorts of sparkling pins, the girl looks like a doll come to life.

A twinge of jealousy pierces Diana. The girl is very lucky to have such beautiful clothes and walk around looking like a picture from a magazine.

Just as Diana looks at the other girl, the other girl looks at her. When Diana notices the inspection, the other girl holds out her hand, a gesture that strikes Diana as very grown-up.

“I’m Jane Sammael,” the girl introduces herself.

“I’m Diana Lynch,” Diana says, shaking Jane’s hand. “Sometimes people just call me ‘Di,’ for short.”

“Why were you crying?” Jane asks.

Hugging herself, Diana decides Jane seems nice and she can trust her. “Some girls made fun of how my dress looks,” Diana confesses.

Jane looks at Diana’s dress and doesn’t answer, and for a moment, Diana feels her tears growing again. But then Jane takes off her headband, a beautiful white one decorated with a bow and beads, like the type in store windows.

She offers the headband to Diana. “Would you like to wear it? If you do, maybe no one will talk about your dress.”

Astonished, Diana takes hold of the headband, barely daring to believe she would be allowed to wear the beautiful item. “You’d let me?”

“Sure,” Jane says. “You can keep it forever, if you want. I have lots at home.”

Awed, Diana dons the headband and races to the mirror. “I look so pretty!” She twirls before the glass, loving the way the headband’s beads catch the light.

Following, Jane smiles at her. “Would you like to play with me on the swings, Di?”

“Sure!” Diana says eagerly, pleased that this princess-like girl wants to play with her. Then she hesitates. “But-- aren’t you worried about your skirt flying up?”

“I wear shorts beneath my dresses,” Jane tells her. “That way, I can always play on the swings. And don’t worry, because I can show you how to tuck your skirt into your legs so that nothing shows.”

Sadness forgotten, Diana grins. “Let’s go!”

A friend from kindergarten, Trixie Belden, meets them outside. Like Diana and Jane, she’s dressed up for the first day of school, in a gingham dress with church shoes, lacy socks, and a ribbon in her sandy corkscrew curls. However, at midday, her ribbon is askew, her socks are drooping, and her shoes are smudged with dust.

“We’re gathering a group for tag!” Trixie declares. “You want to play?”

“For sure!” Diana enthuses. Then she remembers she already promised to play on the swings. She glances guiltily at Jane.

“It’s all right,” Jane says understandingly. “We can play tag with Trixie.”

“Won’t your skirt be too heavy to run in?” Trixie points out.

“Probably,” Jane admits, looking downcast. Then she brightens. “I can sit on the grass and cheer for all of you, though!”

Giggling, Diana grabs the hands of her two friends, one new and one old, and pulls them towards the grass where a group is gathering for tag. Maybe school won’t be as fun as she’s hoped, but she’s glad to be with Trixie and Jane.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven-year-old Jane deals with some harsh realities regarding her home life.

**Jane, Age 7**

School during the first grade isn't all that fun-- Jane’s teacher, Ms. Elliman, is really grumpy. But the people at school are lots of fun. Jane has not one best friend, but two: Diana Lynch and Trixie Belden. Also, the other kids at school are great, too. Both of Trixie’s brothers, Brian and Mart, are nice, and so is Jane’s own brother, Bill, as well as Tad Webster, a second-grader who Jane thinks is very handsome.

After school sometimes, Jane gets to go to Diana's apartment. Mr. And Mrs. Lynch are very nice, and the way they talk to Jane always makes her feel special, like she can be proud of who she is. Other times, Trixie and Diana come over to Jane’s house, which isn't as fun. Mr. And Mrs. Lynch both work, though, and so do Jane's parents, so more often, all of them-- Jane, Diana, Bill, Trixie, and Trixie's brothers-- all go to the Belden house. The Beldens live at a place called Crabapple Farm. They own a lot of land, and the mansion next to them is empty, which means there are even more places to play.

Crabapple Farm is wonderful. Mrs. Belden is always home, and spends a lot of time in the large, sunny kitchen making food that smells delicious and tastes even better. When Mr. Belden is at home, he's always kind and never makes Jane feel unwelcome or unwanted. And there's always an adventure waiting outside, in the gardens, in the orchard, or in the woods behind the house. Best of all, the Beldens host a joint birthday party for Trixie and Jane, because their birthdays are both in the first week of May.

Crabapple Farm feels more like a home to Jane than any other place she's ever been. After first grade ends and summer begins, she is devastated-- what if she can't go to the Farm anymore? But Mr. And Mrs. Belden put her fears to rest when she hears them assuring her parents that she and Bill are welcome anytime.

Jane's father is not pleased about the arrangement. Her parents argue about it at night when Bill and Jane are supposed to be asleep. Jane and Bill live on the third floor of their house, but if they sit in the middle of the first staircase, they can hear every word their parents say, cutting through the otherwise quiet house.

“Is there a reason, Elissa, you think it's appropriate to dump our children on some poor woman who already has three of her own to take care of?” Their father demands.

“For God’s sake, Troy, it's not like I don't expect to do anything for them in return. I buy groceries for the Beldens when they need them. I send them wine at the holidays and constantly give them thank you gifts. Besides, Helen offers to take the kids, because she knows how much all of them like to play together. And they're outside, entertaining themselves, not inside pestering her,” their mother retorts.

The voice of their father gets angrier. “You know, if you would just say at home like Helen does, we wouldn't have to have the embarrassment of constantly foisting our children on other people. But instead, they have to carpool home from swim team and we hire a housekeeper, all because you won't stay at home and let me be the provider, as the husband should be!”

“This argument again?” Their mother simply sounds tired. “We can more than afford a housekeeper, Bill. And I pay gas money to the families Jane and Bill carpool with. As for my work, well, have you ever considered my career means as much to me as yours does to you?”

Their father’s voice explodes with outrage, and Bill gets up and starts back towards their own floor. On their way up both staircases, they close each door at the top, like they do every night in their house.

“Let's go to bed,” he says. “I can bring out my sleeping bag. You can stay in my room.”

“Why do Mom and Dad fight so much?” Jane asks. “Mr. and Mrs. Belden don't argue like that. And neither do Mr. and Mrs. Lynch.”

“They're just upset, Jane,” Bill tells her. “They're upset. That's all.”

Their mother still seems upset the following day. It's a Saturday, which means no swim team. Their mother is at home, and their father is absent, but Jane doesn't mind very much. But her mother stands by the window, holding a cup of tea with both hands, and listlessly looking outside.

Trying to distract her mother, Jane peppers her with questions. “Why did you name me ‘January’?” She asks. “My birthday is in May.”

“Yes, it is,” her mother agrees, with a voice that sounds like it's supposed to be cheerful, but really just sounds fake. “But your birthday is on the sixth of May, like your father’s birthday is on the sixth of January, which is the Epiphany. When you were born, your father was reminded of his own birthday, and gave you ‘January’ as a first name, and ‘Epiphany’ as your second middle name. He also gave you the middle name of ‘Delilah,’ to remember his younger sister by,” she explains, naming Jane’s now deceased paternal aunt. “In a way, your father named you after himself.”

“I know all that,” Jane replies testily, annoyed she’s being told old information as if it were new. “I just think it’s weird to give me the name of a month I wasn’t even born in.” In Jane’s mind, the explanation for her name is the stupidest reason to ever exist, especially her father apparently thinking of only his own birthday on the day she was born.

“Well, Jane,” her mother’s tone begins to sound irritated, “if you dislike your name that much, you can change it when you’re older.”

“I don’t not like it,” Jane protested. “I just think it’s  _ weird _ , that’s all.”

Her mother sighs. “Whatever you want, Jane.” She places her mug in the kitchen sink. “I’m going upstairs to lie down. Try not to make too much noise.”

Bored at being left on her own, Jane wanders outside to the front yard, bringing with her the Queen Elizabeth  _ Royal Diaries _ book she’s not supposed to read because according to her mother, “it’s too mature.” She doesn’t understand most of it, though, so she settles for moping.

Bill is lucky-- he’s got to go to a friend’s birthday party at a video game arcade in White Plains. Jane wishes she could have gone along with him, because he’s told her about a snowmobile racing game that sounds really exciting, and she would like to try it.

The rest of Jane’s morning and most of her afternoon is spent outside. She doesn’t see her mother the entire time and guesses she’s still lying down.

When dinner time isn’t too far away, Jane hears her father’s car coming up the long driveway. Not in the mood to talk with him or anyone else by this point, Jane dashes to the backyard and settles herself in the tree house.

Two car doors open and close instead of one-- he must have picked up Bill from the party. And Bill’s probably brought home a goody bag of really cool toys. Well, Jane’s just going to stay in the tree house until her mother or father forces her to leave.

Her father comes searching for her sooner than she expected, though. He’s dressed in nice clothes, not work clothes, but church-style clothes, and he’s carrying a tall box.

“Hello, Jane,” he says with a smile. “Good to see you.”

Not smiling back, Jane eyes him warily. “Where were you all day? Mom was sad, and nothing I did could cheer her up.”

Her father clears his throat. “I know Bill got to go to his friend’s birthday today, so I figured you could use some fun yourself.” He holds out the box. “Here you go.”

The box contains Kit, an American Girl Doll Jane’s been pestering her parents about for the past several weeks. Even though Jane should be happy, a strange feeling overcomes her in its place, and all she can think of is the argument between her parents the previous night.

“What’s the matter?” Her father asks, still smiling. “Don’t you think she’s pretty?” He nods at the doll.

Jane should be happy. Jane should be polite and thank him.

But instead, a question bursts forth from her mouth. “Why did you name me ‘January’? I was born in  _ May _ .”

For a moment, her father simply stares at her, and when he speaks, his tone is irritated. “Your mother and I have already explained this to you several times. You were named after me.”

With that, he sighs and walks away, talking the doll with him. He doesn’t look at angry, but Jane can tell he is, and she wonders if tonight he’ll yell at her instead of Mom.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Jane wakes up. She’s scared but not sure why, and she can’t get rid of the idea she’s not alone in her room. But she sleeps with the curtains completely drawn and all lights shut off, so she can’t tell.

“Hello?” She calls uncertainly.

The silence in her pitch dark room is her only answer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana begins to sense the cracks in Jane's home life.

**Diana, Age 8**

Crabapple Farm, Trixie’s house, is great, but Diana doesn’t think she’s ever seen a more wonderful house than the Sammael home. It’s enormous on the inside, and the outside has a huge yard and all sorts of pretty gardens. Not only does Jane’s family have a housekeeper to cook and clean for them, but they also have a gardener to make sure their lawn always looks nice. The furniture is fancy, and never fails to make Diana imagine she’s in a castle from a storybook. Jane herself has a huge room with all sorts of beautiful dresses, toys, and hair decorations. Diana would love to come and live with Jane.

But even though they have a wonderful house, Diana can’t help but notice no one in the Sammael family seems all that happy. Jane and Bill are both nice, with Jane giving Diana all sorts of treasures to take home, and Bill is friendly and helps them when they need it. But Jane’s mother always seems like she’s ready to start yelling or crying at any minute. And Jane’s father isn’t at home very often, but when he is, he never remembers the names of Diana or the Beldens.

Sometimes, Diana is just amazed at how much stuff the Sammaels own. Every other day, it seems like Jane and Bill get a new toy, or their parents have bought a special piece of furniture none of the children are allowed to touch. The Sammaels often go out for dinner, or have construction men in their yard to do work on a certain part of the property.

Diana lives with her parents in a small apartment, and her bedroom is a tiny room that used to be a supply closet. She gets presents for Christmas and her birthday, and those presents are usually clothes. She knows her family doesn’t have very much money; her parents couldn’t give her anything to spend at the book fair or on the school field trip. Both times, though, Jane bought things for her.

She’s not really sure how Jane’s family has so much money when all they do is spend, and her parents have so little money when all they do is save.

Jane and Bill certainly never seem to wonder about it. They play at Trixie’s house more often than anyone else’s, and Diana guesses it’s because three out of their group of six live there. Sometimes, though, they all go over to Jane and Bill’s house, and that’s what Diana likes best. She doesn’t mean to be greedy, but she likes all the sorts of presents Jane gives her.

“Why haven’t you opened your doll, Jane?” Diana asks once, when she and Trixie are visiting Jane. Mart and Brian aren’t over this time, because Bill is staying after school for a program. “Isn’t Kit the doll you really wanted for a while?”

She’s admiring the American Girl Doll in Jane’s room. The doll is still in its box, like it’s part of a store. Dust has gathered on the box lid; months have passed since the doll first appeared in Jane’s room, and from Diana can tell, even the box has never once been touched since then.

Jane looks up from where she’s rummaging through her toy chest. Trixie is beside her, holding two kaleidoscopes and trying to see into both at once.

Looking at the doll as if she’s surprised to find it in her room, Jane shrugs. “I thought I wanted it, but I don’t want it as much now that I have it,” she tells Diana. “Do you want her?”

The words cause an ache in Diana. She does want the doll, all new and pretty in its box, brand new just for her, not a hand-me-down from one of the church children. She wants the doll more than anything else in the world. But she knows she can’t accept such a gift, especially since she knows from hopefully gazing at the catalogues from the mail that American Girl Dolls cost a lot of money.

“I couldn’t,” Diana says, because she knows she has to. “But thank you.”

Jane turns to Trixie. “Do you want it?”

“No thanks,” Trixie replies, now alternating the kaleidoscopes on each eye. “I already have my doll, Dinah, at home.”

A little bit before dinner time, Mrs. Belden shows up to whisk Trixie off.

“I’d really love to stay and chat, but I must be off. Peter’s watching the boys and cooking dinner, and the last time that happened, Brian and Mart got into  _ Apocalypse Now _ . Poor Mart had nightmares for weeks,” Mrs. Belden says.

“Mart still has nightmares?” Jane repeats, her eyes wide. Diana shares her astonishment that someone like Mart Belden, who seems so adventurous and fearless, has bad dreams like anyone else.

“Well, you’ve got no room to talk!” Mrs. Sammael says to Jane sharply. “Your father told me you were having a nightmare and yelling in your sleep not a week ago!”

For some reason, Diana is uncomfortable with the way Mrs. Sammael talks to Jane in front of everyone else. It brings her back to the moment on the first day of first grade, when another girl made fun of her dress. Again, she can’t help but think it seems like Jane’s mother doesn’t really like Jane too much.

Luckily for them, Mrs. Belden says her goodbyes and the topic switches, and with their mothers focused on talking to each other, Diana and Jane can go back to playing. The look on Jane’s face is weird, almost like she’s scared and sad at the same time, so Diana suggests they start hide-and-seek, one of Jane’s favorite games. Diana hides first and Jane seeks, and Diana dashes into Jane’s room and shields herself behind the window draperies. 

For a long time, she stays there, waiting for Jane to find her. Several times, Jane walks in and checks the room, but she never finds Diana’s hiding spot. Finally, after what her Minnie Mouse watch (a gift from Jane) times as fifteen minutes, Diana decides to surrender, and abandons her cover to see where Jane went off to.

She comes across Jane calling for her on the ground floor, having given up the search.

“Didn’t you go upstairs and call for me?” Diana asks.

“Yeah, but not the third floor. Only the second, and the door to the third floor staircase was closed,” Jane says.

“You must have really had a bad nightmare, huh?” Diana remarks without thinking.

Jane looks at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

Even though she doesn’t want to explain, Diana does. “What your mother said about your nightmare,” she answers awkwardly. “That you were yelling when you were asleep. If I couldn’t hear you shouting from the second floor when I was on the third, you must have really been screaming for your father to hear you on the third floor from his room on the second floor.”

“Oh,” Jane says, and Diana feels embarrassed, knowing she’s gone and said the wrong thing. Because of what she’s said, Jane looks both scared and sad again.

On impulse, Diana surges forward and hugs Jane. She can feel Jane trembling when she does.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane falls further out of favor within her family.

**Jane, Age 8**

The pool water is freezing, and Jane momentarily glad when swim team practice ends, but changes her mind the moment she hauls herself out of the water. The morning air is the chilliest it's been all summer, and the wind is freezing against her wet skin. The sky is gray and overcast, preventing the sun from offering any warmth.

“Let’s go, Jane!” Her father calls impatiently from where he’s waiting by the pool edge with the other parents. “I’m not waiting around forever!”

Rolling her eyes, Jane pushes herself from the pool, and walks to her knapsack, removing her swim cap and goggles as she does. Her father makes a point of showing up to the country club to pick her and Bill up from swim team practice, or insisting that their mother do so, at every opportunity. Today he’s taking the morning off from his office “for the sole purpose of ensuring we don’t burden other families with our own children,” as he told her mother the previous night. Even years later, he’s still angry about carpooling.

Jane wishes she didn’t have to ride with him. Bill is away on a campout with his Boy Scout troop. Jane wishes she were as lucky.

“Ready, Dad,” she says, wrapping a towel around herself as she hurries toward her father. She would like to change out of her wet bathing into dry clothes, especially since it’s cold, but she doesn’t want to make him more upset by keeping him waiting.

“About time,” her father snaps, turning on his heel and striding up the long, winding path to the main building, where the car is parked in the front lot. “It’s embarrassing enough knowing we have to rely on the goodwill of strangers to drive you home because your mother can’t be bothered. Don’t make me wait for you like I’m your personal driver. You’re going to get uppity by having so many adults play chauffeur for you, I just know it.”

Though she doesn’t know what “uppity” means, Jane can guess from her father’s tone that being it will only mean trouble for her.

She’s saved from another of her father’s rants when Mr. Beckholder stops her father to talk to him. Mr. Beckholder’s son, Talon, is a grade above Jane, and nastier than anyone she knows. Being on the swim team is really fun, except when he’s around.

Luckily, Talon doesn’t seem to be around right now. But that’s the only bit of luck. Her father and Mr. Beckholder talk for a long time, till everyone else from the swim team has escaped the cold and gone back inside. The pool area is completely empty other than for them.

Never a patient person, Jane is desperate to leave. But she doesn’t want to upset her father by whining. She glowers through the shrubbery down at the pool, and then an idea hits her: she can go back to the pool until her father’s done talking. The pool water isn’t warm, but at least it will protect her from the wind.

“I’m going back down to swim in the pool, Dad,” Jane tells her father.

He barely glances at her when he nods, which Jane takes as permission, and runs around the bend back down to the pool. She’s always liked that the pool is fairly closed in by hedges, like a fort would be. Her mother says it’s for privacy, but Jane likes to imagine she’s in a spy hideout.

Shedding her towel, Jane guiltily glances at the sign warning anyone from swimming when there’s no lifeguard on duty. No one else is even at the pool right now, let alone a lifeguard. But Jane is a good swimmer. She’s on the swim team, after all. Still, Jane decides to compromise by remaining in the shallow end of the pool, where her feet can touch the bottom.

She's barely been in the pool for thirty seconds when something crashes into her back and forces her down into the water. Jane thrashes wildly, trying to escape the grasp of whatever is holding her down.

The force relents, and Jane breaks the surface of the water, frantically searching for her attacker. She spots him immediately.

“Talon!” She exclaims furiously. “What are you doing?”

“Having a good time,” Talon sneers, and lunges toward her again.

“No, stop!” Jane tries to shriek, but her cry is cut off when he uses his full weight to shove at her shoulders and push her back under the water. Jane tries to fight him off, using her long fingernails to scratch at his arms, but he refuses to let her come up for air. She tries to bite him, but she can't maneuver her head when he's using all his strength to press her down.

Just as her lungs begin burning and Jane is sure she is going to die, Talon lets her up for a breath of air before knocking her back under. The scenario repeats once, twice-- Jane loses track. Her heart is pounding and her stomach is twisting. Every time she's at the surface, she opens her mouth to scream, and just takes a mouthful of water when Talon rams into her again.

In her struggles, Jane finally lands a solid hit on Talon; she kicks out and smashes her heel into the soft spot beneath his legs. He jumps back, and Jane darts away like a minnow, briefly breaking for air only once she's out of reach. The rapid pace continues until she's safe at the steps of the pool. A quick glance around tells her Talon has left the pool area. No sooner has Jane breathed a sigh of relief when her throat burns and her mouths overheats, and she rushes to the nearest trash can to empty her stomach of the water she swallowed.

Just as she's finishing being sick, her father's bellow breaks the day’s gray silence.

“JANE!” His angry shout is close to a scream.

Overcome with dread, Jane gathers her towel, flip-flops, and knapsack, and starts up the winding path, past the pool’s tall hedges, to where her father awaits her.

He glares at her as she approaches, as does Mr. Beckholder.

“What did you think you were doing?” Her father demands. “Talon’s arms are so scratched they're almost bleeding! What makes you think that kind of violent behavior is acceptable?”

“I only scratched him because he was dunking me!” Jane protests.

“That's enough of your back talk, young lady!” Her father snaps. “Do you know the way home?”

The off-topic question throws Jane. “I-- I think so.”

“Well, you're going to learn. I'm not taking you back to the house. Not if you're going to insist on embarrassing me.” Her father turns his back and strides away.

“Wait!” Jane calls frantically. “Dad, just give me the chance to expla--”

Her father whirls around. “Why is it so important to you, Jane, to always have the last word?”

Utterly defeated and drained, Jane watches her father walk away from her, then moves to follow him into the club building. When she passes Talon, he sends her a smug smile and she scowls back; the marks on his arms are barely pink and practically indistinguishable from his normal skin, let alone bleeding. What a wimp.

Jane loses sight of her father once she arrives at the club building, but at least if she's walking home on her own, she the chance to change out of her wet swim suit.

Once she exits the locker room after putting on dry clothes, anger begins rising within her. The farewell she receives from the front desk receptionist does nothing to help her blackening mood.

“Better hurry up, Jane!” The young woman tells her. “Your father left a while ago. He’ll be waiting for you!”

Jane does not reply. She's sure if she opens her mouth, she'll say something she'll regret one way or another.

For the first part of the way home, Jane motivates herself by thinking of all the people she hates. Her father, obviously, for always being disapproving and never saying anything nice to her. Her mother, for not standing up to her father enough and letting him continue to be mean. Talon Beckholder, of course, for getting her into this trouble. Mr. Beckholder, for not giving her a chance to explain what happened, and also for raising a person as horrible as Talon. For this reason, Jane decides she also hates Mrs. Beckholder.

Eventually, though, Jane's anger fades, leaving her miserable. The neighborhoods she's walking through look less and less familiar. The air is cold, and her T-shirt and shorts offer little protection from the chill. Her feet hurt from walking in flip-flops. Her wet hair drips down her back, making her shirt damp and bringing her skin beneath to sting when the wind picks up. Though her towel is also still damp, Jane withdraws it from her knapsack and bundles it around her shoulders before slipping on her knapsack again, hoping the addition will make her more comfortable.

Unfortunately, the combination of the towel and the knapsack restricts her arm movements. When the toe of her flip-flops catches in a rift in the sidewalk, Jane normally might have been able to use her arms to regain her balance. But with her arms limited even in her attempts to stay upright, Jane twists and falls sideways, her left knee slamming against the curb. She lands awkwardly, with her lower legs still on the sidewalk and the rest of her body on the street, but the one saving grace is that she managed to cushion her head with a towel-wrapped elbow.

Still, the impact momentarily stuns her, and for several seconds Jane just lies there, too shaken to move. Then, she painstakingly eases her legs down to be level with her body, and hoists herself up to sit back on the curb. A stinging pain in her knee brings her to look down, and she realizes blood is flowing freely from a grime and gravel-encrusted gash. Cautiously, she tries to brush out the worst of the gravel, but a fresh surge of pain convinces her to stop. Instead, she shrugs off her backpack, removes the towel, and presses it against her cut.

Suddenly, Jane is overcome with tears. She’s lost, she’s cold, she’s hurt, and she’s angry. Nothing about this situation is her fault, and yet she’s the one who’s badly hurt. It’s not at all fair. One hand holding the towel to her knee and the other covering her face, Jane begins to sob in earnest.

The motor of an approaching car hums lowly, and Jane is very embarrassed to be caught out in the open in such a mess, but she can’t stop crying. Even as she hears the car slow and stop, its door opening, then shutting, she silently begs the person just to leave her alone.

“Miss?” A deep voice asks her. “Miss, are you all right?”

Uncovering her face, Jane blinks away her tears and looks up. A big and tall man stands before her, wearing a blue uniform. The car parked in the street is a police car, so he must be a police officer.

“I hurt my knee,” she tells him, lifting the towel to show him. “I tripped on the sidewalk.”

“That looks like it hurts,” the officer says kindly. “My name’s Officer Molinson. What’s yours?”

“Jane Sammael,” Jane answers. “Actually, my first name is January, but that’s dumb, because my birthday is in May. So everyone calls me ‘Jane.’”

“Do you live around here, Jane?” Officer Molinson asks her. “Are your parents with you?”

Jane shakes her head. “My dad told me to walk home from the country club. But I don’t know where I am, and my parents are at work. I live on Silent Springs Drive, near the Whispering Pines development.”

“Well, Jane, why don’t you come with me, and we’ll go to the hospital and get your knee checked out, okay?” Officer Molinson offers her one of his hands, and picks up her knapsack with the other.

Accepting his hand, Jane follows him to his car. She knows she’s not supposed to go off with strangers, but she figures a police officer is okay. Besides, going off with a stranger would serve her father right after he was so mean to her.

On the way to the hospital, Officer Molinson asks her a lot of questions. Does she live with both of her parents? Does she have any siblings, and if yes, how old are they? Does anyone else live in the house with her family? How often do her parents expect her to walk home alone? What about Bill? Are she and Bill left home alone often?

“Jane,” Officer Molinson asks her as they arrive at the hospital, “has any adult, your parents or anyone else, ever hit you? Or hurt you in another way?”

“My parents say some pretty nasty things to me sometimes,” Jane admits. “But they’ve never hit me that I can remember. I don’t think anyone else has, either.”

At the hospital, Officer Molinson takes her to the emergency room, and then to a doctor’s room. A nice nurse examines Jane, shining a bright light into her eyes, and asks her questions about her fall, while another cleans up Jane’s knee. She has to get stitches, twelve of them, but Officer Molinson lets her hold his hand when they’re putting them in, and afterward tells her she’s been very brave. A doctor comes in and begins asking Jane questions like the nurse did, while Officer Molinson keeps walking in and out of the room to take calls on his radio.

After a long time, Jane’s father shows up, but when he does, he doesn’t go to Jane. Instead, he immediately starts speaking to Officer Molinson, who makes him be quiet and leads him out of the room. They stay outside talking, and when the doctor is finished asking questions about her knee, that one leaves. A lady doctor takes his place, and begins asking her questions like the ones Officer Molinson asked her before. Jane explains about being a member of the swim team country club, her father being angry about carpools, Talon trying to drown her in the pool, and her father not wanting to listen to her and making her walk home.

Because she’s still angry at her father, Jane tells the lady doctor her address and then where the country club is, and also adds her father’s remarks about being Jane’s personal chauffeur. The doctor seems interested by all Jane tells her, and writes it down faster than Jane’s ever seen anyone write. Though it’s on her mind, Jane doesn’t tell the doctor about something that’s been bothering her for a while: her father could hear her yelling on the third floor when he was supposed to be on the second floor, even though Diana couldn’t hear Jane on the third floor when Jane was calling her on the second.

Jane can’t explain why, but she thinks she should tell the doctor about it, but she doesn’t, because explaining the situation would be confusing and take a long time.

At the end, the doctor gives her a business card.

“If anyone is hurting you, either someone you know or a stranger, you can use my phone number to call me,” the doctor explains.

Officer Molinson gives her a card, too, and says almost the same thing before he lets her father take her home. “Call the number on the card if you need to talk to me, Jane. Even if you’re not in danger. Even if all you need is a ride home.” He smiles at her, and Jane smiles back.

On the way home, Jane’s father ignores her. He doesn’t ask if she’s all right, and he definitely doesn’t apologize.

But her mother gives her a new book, another one of the _Royal Diaries_ series. This one is about Cleopatra.

* * *

That night, Jane and Bill sit near the bottom of the first staircase and listen to their parents argue.

“To think,” their mother snaps at their father, “that you’ve been snarling at me for years now about Bill and Jane carpooling with their friends. But when you yourself go to drive Jane home to prove a point, not only do you not take her home, but she has to rely on a public servant to rush her to the emergency room!”

“Christ, Elissa,” their father snarls in return. “You’d think we’d barely escaped a visit with social services! It was all a misunderstanding, and I made sure the police and the hospital knew that!”

“She can’t be part of the swim team now, not with her stitches!” Their mother rages. “How am I supposed to explain that to the other parents? To the other club members? My God, Troy, as if your activities don’t already have us as a gossip topic on a regular basis--”

“Just lie and claim she hurt herself!” Their father shouts impatiently. “She’s clumsy and uncoordinated, anyway. And you’ll never have anyone disbelieve that she’s foolish enough to be injured completely on her own!”

Their voices rise further as the argument heightens, and Bill leads Jane up the stairs, leaving the shouting behind.

“Come on,” he says. “We can build a blanket fort in my room.”

* * *

Later that night, Jane wakes abruptly from her spot on the floor of Bill’s room. At first, she’s not sure why she’s awoken, but then she hears creaking from the floorboards further down the hall.

Outside of her room.

Paralyzed with fear, Jane listens as footsteps continue quietly past Bill’s room and then down the stairs.

The next morning, despite turning the house inside out, Jane can’t find her Cleopatra book anywhere.

However, a present waits for her on the kitchen table, a small velvet box, the type that contains jewelry. Opening the box, Jane finds a beautiful cameo necklace of an owl.

No card accompanies the box, only a post-it note with the words “For Jane,” scribbled in her father’s handwriting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Others begin to sense the rising tension within Jane's family.

**Diana, Age 10**

In the fifth grade, Diana is lucky enough not only to have Jane in her class, but Trixie as well. No more stealing a few words in crowded hallways, or only seeing each other at recess-- now she has both of her best friends with her all of the time.

What’s even more exciting is the Spring Concert that’s taking place in April. The Concert is when the entire school comes together and performs musical acts for their families. Kids can sign up to play musical instruments, or dancers can put on a show. But the fifth and sixth graders are the true stars, getting to sing almost all of the songs.

In the week leading up to the Spring Concert, the fifth and sixth grades have practice every day after school. The practice lasts for an hour and a half. But each day after practice, Jane winds up waiting in the parking lot for one of her parents to show. 

Diana feels terrible for Jane when it happens. When practice lets out, all the students go to the sidewalk in front of the school, where one of their parents are usually waiting for them. Sometimes, parents are a few minutes late, and the student is waiting for a little bit longer.

Neither of Jane’s parents ever show up. Each day, it’s the same old story: Jane waits on the sidewalk for her mother or father to appear. Whichever of Diana’s parents is there, as well as Mrs. Belden, insist on waiting with Jane, chatting amongst themselves while keeping one eye on the street. After waiting for a half hour, one of the parents introduces the idea of taking Jane to her house rather than waiting for her parents to arrive. 

Both parents then let the supervising teacher know they’re taking Jane to her house, with one of them vouching for the other’s reliability and trustworthiness, on the off chance Jane’s parents actually do arrive and worry about her. Assuring Jane all the while it’s perfectly fine to accept a ride, the parent then cajoles her into their car and drops her off at home, where both her mother and father’s cars are waiting in the driveway.

When the scenario repeats on Thursday, the last practice before the concert on Friday, no one is especially surprised. But Jane is disappointed. 

“Jane, sweetheart,” Diana’s mother says kindly, “Why don’t you hop into our car, and we can give you a lift?”

“One of my parents will be here,” Jane insists. “They promised, because they weren’t here any day before now. They’ll be here, you’ll see.”

In an attempt to distract her friend, Diana brings up a carnival she’s heard of. “There’s a spring festival going on in White Plains this week. They have rides, cotton candy, a magic show-- everything! I really wish we could go.”

“That sounds fantastic!” Trixie exclaims, her blue eyes wide.

“That does sound like fun,” Jane agrees quietly. “But Bill already asked my parents, and they said no, that the evening traffic in White Plains isn’t worth the drive.”

Diana nods. “I wish we didn’t have the Spring Concert this week, because I would love to go.” Privately, Diana is glad the Concert is the same week, as she knows her family wouldn’t be able to afford the carnival, even just for one person.

Another few minutes pass. Everyone else is gone; even the teacher who’s supposed to be supervising the student pick-up has left.

“Do you want to call your parents at home, Jane?” Mrs. Belden asks. “I have a cell phone with me that you can use.” 

Jane’s face flushes red. “They're not at home. They'd either be at work, or on their way here, and I don’t know any of their other numbers.”

Mrs. Belden looks at Diana’s mother, and Diana can’t quite read their expressions.

“Your parents both have cell phones, don’t they?” Mrs. Belden persists. “Are you sure you don’t know their cell phone numbers? Or maybe you know their office numbers?”

Jane shakes her head silently.

“Maybe they wrote it down for you?” Diana’s mother proposes. “I wrote down all of the work phones numbers Diana would ever need to reach her father or me. The list is pinned inside Diana’s backpack so she’ll never lose it.”

“I don’t have anything like that,” Jane says flatly.

Another look passes between Mrs. Belden and Diana’s mother. 

“Honey, why don’t you get in the car with Mrs. Lynch?” Mrs. Belden gently suggests. “You parents are probably stuck in traffic. But just in case, I’ll call on my cell phone to try to reach your parents at home so they don’t worry about you.”

Without a word, Jane complies, starting toward the Lynch car. They all climb into their vehicles, and Diana and Trixie wave to each other as the cars split up, going in opposite directions. Jane doesn’t talk, only stares out the window.

This time, though, there aren’t any cars at the Sammael house. The driveway is empty. 

“It’s okay,” Jane says. “Bill is probably home right now, and we’re usually left at home alone, anyway.”

Diana’s mother switches off the car. “Why don’t you go and try the door? We’ll stay here until you’re inside.”

Jne obliges, and Diana spends the next several minutes watching Jane try the knob, then knock on the door and anxiously wait for an answer. Eventually, Jane gives up, walking back to the car with her shoulders slumped. 

“No one’s home,” she reports. “And we always lock the back door if we lock the front, so that’s no use.”

“You don’t have a house key?” Diana asks, surprised. She has a key to the apartment, in case of an emergency. If her parents could afford to give her a key, surely Mr. and Mrs. Sammael could afford one to give to Jane.

Face flushing again, Jane avoids eye contact. “They never gave me one. Bill doesn’t have one, either.” She then changes the subject. “Would you like to wait in the back yard? There are a bunch of trees for shade. Cars heat up so fast.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Jane,” Diana’s mother says warmly. “Lead the way.” 

They only sit in the back yard for a few minutes before they detect the humming motor of an approaching car.

“That’s my mom!” Jane exclaims in obvious relief, and she races to the driveway at the front of the house.

Diana moves to follow, but her mother stops her.

“Diana,” she says seriously. “I might need to talk to Mrs. Sammael about some things Jane doesn’t need to hear. I want to you take Jane inside the house and play with her until we’re done. I’ll come get you when I’m ready to go.”

“Okay,” Diana says, though she’s not quite certain about what she’s agreeing to.   


Angry yelling from the front yard interrupts them, bring them to hurry around the house.

“-- no idea where you were!” A dishevelled Mrs. Sammael shouts at an oddly blank-faced Jane. “No phone call to me or your father! No one at the school to help! Here I was getting ready to call the police--”

“Excuse me, Elissa,” Diana’s mother breaks in apologetically but firmly. “It’s not fair to be angry with Jane for what happened. I convinced Jane to let me give her a ride home. She wanted to wait for you, but I insisted. Because Jane didn’t know any of you or your husband’s phone numbers, Helen Belden offered to return to her house and try to contact you. I didn’t think anyone would mind me taking Jane home, because a precedent for it had been set in the past few days. We’ve been waiting here for either you or your husband to arrive, as Jane doesn’t have a key to let herself inside the house.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Sammael says breathlessly. Her usually perfect makeup is smudged, her lipstick smeared at the corners, and she’s carrying her suit jacket rather than wearing it. The makeup around her eyes looks somewhat streaky, as though she was crying and hastily tried to clean up. “Oh.” She runs her fingers through her loose blonde hair, which is starting to puff and frizz in the humid spring air, and sweat beads on her forehead.  

A silence briefly commences, as Mrs. Sammael appears to be absorbing what Diana’s mother told her. Jane stares at the ground.

Finally, Mrs. Sammael laughs oddly, wearing a smile that reminds Diana of a plastic doll. “Thank you for explaining to me, Betty.” She nudges Jane with an elbow. “If only Jane had told me all of that from the beginning, I wouldn’t have had to get so upset. Sorry you had to see that.”

A few minutes later, Diana and her mother leave to go to their own home. Mrs. Sammael has already vanished inside the house, but Jane remains outside to wave goodbye to them.

* * *

Worried about Jane, Diana spends most of the evening agonizing whether to call her or not. Eventually, she does call, reasoning that if Mr. or Mrs. Sammael answers, she can lie and says she needs to talk to Jane about homework.

However, her worries are in vain, as it’s Jane who picks up the phone.

“Are you okay?” Diana asks in a hushed voice. “Your mom seemed so angry.”

“I think she’s asleep right now,” Jane tells her. “She locked herself in her room right after you and your mom left, and she hasn’t come out yet. But I know she told Dad about what happened. He’s really angry with me. Again.”

“But didn’t your mom tell him what my mom said?” Diana can’t believe Jane’s in trouble over something that’s not her fault at all. “Didn’t you explain what happened?”

“I tried,” Jane says, and Diana can picture her shrugging her shoulders as she speaks. “But I don’t think my mom really wanted to listen to your mom, and my dad really doesn’t want to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry, Jane,” Diana says desperately, because she really doesn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jane tells her. “One thing, though. Could your parents give me a ride to the concert tomorrow?”

“Aren’t your parents going to take you?” Diana asks curiously.

“I guess not,” Jane replies. “My dad is taking Bill to the carnival in White Plains. He gave Bill his own cell phone today, and right now he’s having him call up a bunch of his friends, and invite them, too.”

“I thought your parents thought the carnival wasn’t worth dealing with the White Plains traffic,” Diana says, puzzled.

“I guess it’s worth it for Bill,” Jane says bitterly. 

“And your mother?” Diana is aghast. “Why isn’t she going to the Concert?”

“I don’t  _ know _ , Diana.” Jane starts to sound impatient. “She just  _ isn’t _ . Look, if your parents can’t give me a ride--”

“No, no,” Diana says hastily. “Of course we can.”

As promised, the next night Diana and her parents go to pick up Jane for the Spring Concert. Once again, Jane is wearing a beautiful dress, and her shoes and headband still manage to be the prettiest Diana’s ever seen. She could easily be a princess who just walked out of a fairy tale. Diana feels awful when she looks at her, though, because she knows Jane’s life isn’t like a fairy tale at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane discovers the answer to an ongoing mystery in her life.

**Jane, Age 11**

During Jane’s sixth grade year, her parents’ arguments at once grow more severe and frequent. They argue about anything and everything. If it’s the housekeeper’s night off, they argue about whose turn it is to cook dinner. If they decide to go out to dinner, they argue about which restaurant they should choose.

Even the holidays aren't safe. On Christmas Eve, they're about to leave for church. Jane can hear Bill trek down the stairs, and before she follows, she stops to swipe on a light coat of lipstick.

Jane gets to the first floor just behind her mother. When he sees Jane, her father smiles.

“You look lovely, Jane,” her father offers pleasantly.

Before she can open her mouth to reply to the compliment, her mother breaks in.

“Jane looks lovely?” Her mother demands. “Jane!? What about me? Don't I look nice? Or am I not worthy of your attention anymore?”

Fists clenched, her mother stalks away and storms back up the stairs.

“Oh, for the love of Christ,” her father says. Jane's not sure if he's talking to her or himself. “I don't see why I have to put up with this-- Elissa, _Elissa_ , wait a minute--” Her father brushes past her to chase after his wife.

In the end, they don't go to church at all that Christmas.

* * *

“I think my parents are going to get a divorce,” Jane tells Trixie and Diana at recess while waiting in line for the swings.

“You think so?” Diana's violet eyes are wide.

“Why?” Trixie asks, ever the inquiring mind.

“They argue all the time. Little arguments and big arguments. Bill and I are the only ones to ever really talk at dinner anymore. And I don't think they like me much these days, either,” Jane admits.

“Why not?” Trixie questions.

“I'm the reason they argue, sometimes,” Jane confesses. “They were in a huge argument over Christmas because my dad told me I looked nice. My dad has never liked me, really.”

“Would you stay in Sleepyside, if your parents divorced?” Diana seems distressed by Jane's prediction.

“I don't know,” Jane tells them wearily.

The conversation leaves her mind when the bell rings to signal the end of recess, but others aren't as ready to forget.

* * *

A few weeks later, Trixie spends a Saturday at Jane's house to work on a social studies project. For class, they're building a diorama, and the process goes easier than Jane initially expected.

From the large bay window in Jane's room, Trixie can see her mother’s car driving up the long, winding driveway.

“Moms is here,” she announces, and she and Jane begin to clean up the supplies they've used.

“Anything else I can do?” Trixie asks, once they've replaced all of the art materials into their respective boxes.

Surveying the room, Jane shakes her head. “It's going to take a while to clean everything up. There's no point in making you stay for that.”

Jane and Trixie bound down both flights of stairs. Mrs. Belden is in the entrance hall, speaking in a low, serious tone to Jane's mother. She stops when Jane and Trixie reach them, and with a hello for Jane and a goodbye for her mother, ushers Trixie out the door.

A stack of new library books awaits her in her room, and Jane is about to return upstairs when her mother stops her.

“You might as well stay down here, Jane,” her mother says in an odd, strained voice. “I think your father will want to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Jane is taken aback. Her father “wanting to talk” to her never brings anything good.

Her mother walks to the back of the house where Jane's father has his office. Jane waits in dread, wondering what her father has in store for her. Almost an hour crawls by, and since it would normally be dinner time, Jane vacates her watch in the living room to make herself a sandwich.

Just as she's pouring herself a glass of ice water, her father stalks into the kitchen. “Come with me,” he orders. He glances at the sandwich on her plate. “You can go back to worrying about your stomach later,” he adds snidely.

Though she feels her face heat at her father's jibe, Jane stands tall as her father leads her into the basement. It's been renovated to include a living room and kitchen area, including a bar.

She leaves the door open as she follows him, but he doubles back to make sure it's closed. He walks down the stairs again slowly, keeping his eyes glued on Jane. Silently, he approaches her, never breaking eye contact, continuing towards her until he's well in her personal space.

“Why would you tell a good family like the Beldens that your mother and I were getting a divorce?” Her father's voice is deceptively controlled.

“I didn't tell them,” Jane says, trying to keep her voice steady. “I said I thought you would, because you two argue so much.”

“Next time, just keep your wild speculations to yourself,” he father growls, anger seeping into his voice. “Do you even know how much you've embarrassed your mother? She stakes the world on what people think of our family, and now you've gone and upset her.”

The words fly from Jane's mouth before she can think. “Like how you always upset her?”

Her father's face contorts in rage. “Listen to me, young lady! Your mother and I are not getting a divorce, and we will not _get_ a divorce, ever! So if you keeping whining at school about what a horrible and tormented life you lead, you're going to be recognized as the liar you are!”

Furious at her father's accusations, Jane shouts back at him. “I just wanted someone to talk to!”

“You know what I think?” Her father snarls. “I think you never once thought your mother and I would divorce. I think you saw an opportunity to be the center of attention, and you seized it so you could be a drama queen and posture about how depressed you are and how badly we treat you! You just want to be a martyr!” He storms away from her and up the stairs, turning off the light and closing the door, leaving her in darkness.

Remaining there, standing stock still for several moments, Jane counts to five hundred in her head, and then dashes up the three flights of stairs to her room. Once there, she hurriedly locks the door behind her.

Rage, embarrassment, frustration, and sadness war for dominance within Jane. She can’t believe Trixie told Mrs. Belden Jane’s private business, and that Mrs. Belden repeated it to her mother. Jane liked Mrs. Belden, and Trixie was one of her best friends until now. One thing’s for sure: Jane’s not going to call Trixie any time soon.

With a heavy heart, Jane notices her library books are gone, no doubt removed by one of her parents as a punishment.

The large table in her room is still covered with art materials, and with a sigh, Jane starts to gather them. Unfortunately, she stacks the boxes too high, and they topple over, their contents scattering.

Abjectly miserable, Jane goes up the hall and knocks on Bill’s door. “Can we make a blanket fort?”

Bill answers, looking tired and ill, likely a side effect of living with their parents’ ongoing war. “We're too old for that, Jane,” he tells her, and closes the door in her face.

Utterly defeated, Jane resigns herself to tidying the mess on the floor by sorting the materials again. Reaching for a box, she discovers it's still sealed, likely lost in the mix when she and Trixie were gathering materials.

Curious, Jane pierces the tape with a long thumbnail, and unfolds the flaps. What it holds is nothing exciting, merely uncut pieces of felt, but when she moves to cast the carton aside, she feels its weight shift, as if its contents were heavy and loose.

Rummaging through the fabric again, Jane is shocked to find the Cleopatra entry in the _Royal Diaries_ series, a book she thought she lost a long time ago. At first she thinks finding the book is a happy coincidence, but the more she thinks about it, the more unsettled she becomes. She would never bury the book in a fabric box and then seal it shut and put it away. But if she didn’t, then who did?

Dread stirs within Jane, and she does her best to concentrate on cleaning up the art supplies. However, when she returns the book to the bookshelf, she hides it back behind the other rows.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Jane awakens, and is overcome with a sense of danger. She lies in her bed, keeping still.

Then, she hears it. Footsteps across her floor, trying to be very quiet. They travel past her bed, and then she hears a soft scraping sound. A moment passes before she realizes the person has opened the drawer of her jewelry armoire.

Rustles and clinks of metal sliding over metal for what seems like forever, and then the drawer scrapes shut again. She can’t distinguish any more noises for a few moments, but then there’s the distinctive smack of the rubber-coated rug underside landing against the hardwood floor. Then the footsteps recede, her door opens and shuts, and the footsteps travel down the stairs where she can’t hear anything more.

In her head, Jane counts to five hundred, making sure it’s safe, making sure the footsteps don’t return.

Once she’s sure the intruder is gone, Jane inches out of bed and flicks on the lights. Cautiously, she approaches the carpet closest to her jewelry armoire, an area rug with a sculpted floral pattern. Drawing back a corner, Jane finds several of her favorite jewelry pieces hidden beneath, including the cameo owl pendant her father gave to her.

* * *

The next morning, Jane dresses and goes downstairs to breakfast to find another jewelry box waiting by her place at the table. Again, it has a note from her father.

She leaves it there, unopened.


	7. Chapter 7

**Diana, Age 12**

Seventh grade is when Diana and Jane begin to grow apart. They have no classes together at all, and Jane is placed in the advanced math and science programs. Furthermore, Jane’s free time is suddenly limited, as she signs up for school activities all across the board: yearbook, chorus, band, tennis, drama club, student government, and cross country. They don’t even have the same lunch period anymore. In elementary school, Diana would spend several days a week with Jane after school. Now, it seems like Jane is too busy with sports, clubs, and committees to so much as watch a movie together.

But where Jane is distant from Diana, she seems deliberately cool toward Trixie. Diana isn’t sure if anything happened, and Trixie denies it, but they must have had some kind of argument.

However, Trixie and Diana are in most of the same classes together, so at least Diana can spend time with one of her friends. Fortunately, like her, Trixie is in the regular science class, and they team up for the majority of their assignments.

But just after Christmas, Diana’s world suddenly turns upside down. The holidays are less stressful than usual for her family; some of their stock investments have paid off, finally. Diana and her siblings receive various gifts, going well beyond the clothing and necessities usually given to them. One of her presents is an expensive at-home spa kit, and another is a luxurious silk scarf. Her brothers are inundated with toy cars and trucks, while her sisters are showered with plush toys. The constant worry about finances seems to have lifted, and Diana is relieved, not only for herself, but for her parents and younger brothers and sisters.

In early January, her family strikes it rich on the stock market, and their situation changes so quickly Diana’s head is left spinning. Gone with the cramped apartment on Main Street-- instead, they have a glamorous mansion on the Hudson. No more of her parents working multiple jobs to make ends meet-- now, her mother stays home while her father has a secure gold collar position. No more watching her younger brothers and sisters, no more chores of any kind-- there’s a flock of servants to take care of every little thing.

The rags-to-riches transition makes her family an instant hit with the media, and now dozens of reports clamor for interviews, photographs, and television appearances. Thrust into a spotlight she doesn’t want and doesn’t know how to navigate, Diana closes in on herself, shying away from the attention. Becoming a celebrity overnight, even a small-scale one, is exhausting and stressful. Her life is changing enormously right before her eyes, and nothing she does can slow it down.

She begs her parents to let her remain at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High and not send her away to some snobby preparatory school, even though she’s embarrassed at suddenly being the center of attention there. As awful as it is having no privacy, with her and her family’s lives being reported in the society pages, starting over at a new school would be even worse.

At any rate, her closest friends seem to take her status change in stride. Trixie treats Diana no differently than usual, and neither does Jane, when they have the chance to talk.

“My birthday is in a few weeks,” Jane tells her. “My mom is taking me shopping for it next weekend. Why don’t you come along?”

“That would be great,” Diana says fervently. “I’d love a chance to leave the house and just be normal for a few hours.”

When the morning of the shopping trip arrives, Diana dresses nicely but casually, in clothes that won’t be a hassle to reassemble in the changing rooms. The doorbell rings just as she’s hurrying toward the stairs, rushing to answer before Harrison has the chance. He’s quicker than she, though, and Jane enters the foyer just as Diana descends the staircase.

“Hey, Diana,” Jane greets her with a smile. “Your home is lovely. I’m so jealous.”

“It’s all right,” Diana says grudgingly. Personally, she finds their new mansion cold and inhospitable. “Would you like to say hello to my parents before we go?”

“Sure,” Jane says. “Lead the way.”

“Your mother is taking tea in the parlor, Miss Diana,” Harrison informs her.

“Thank you, Harrison,” Diana says, an edge in her voice. Her face heats as she escorts Jane to the parlor, simultaneously giving her a firsthand look at the house. She wonders if she seems silly to Jane, going from a small apartment to suddenly living in a big house with all sorts of servants and various types of expensive art and decorations.

For her part, Jane doesn’t appear bothered by any of it.

“I really have to apologize,” Jane tells Diana. “I haven’t made much time for you and Trixie, and that’s really unfair of me. And I don’t want to make excuses, but-- well, things at home are no better than they usually are. Anyway, I’m sorry for not being there for you.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” Diana says, relieved as they approach the parlor. “I just want to have a nice day out together.”

As they enter the room, Diana’s mother looks up from her magazine. “Why, Jane!” She exclaims. “How to good to see you! But what are you doing here?”

Diana’s stomach drops. “Well-- she’s here to take me shopping, remember? I told you about it, at least three times,” she adds frantically.

“Oh.” Diana’s mother deflates slightly. “I must have forgotten.”

“I’ll be off then.” Diana moves to go, but her mother stops her.

“Wait, Diana,” her mother interferes. “Both of you, I’m so sorry,” she says apologetically. “I didn’t just forget your engagement with Jane. I also invited Trixie over to spend the morning and have lunch.”

“You what?” Diana cries.

“I just thought it would be nice for you to have one of friends over, dear,” Diana’s mother defends herself. “You’ve been so isolated lately, and I thought you could do with some cheering up.” She glances at Jane, apology written all over her face. “And of course, Jane is welcome to join in--”

“That’s all right, Mrs. Lynch,” Jane says hastily. “My mother’s waiting on me in the car, and she’s counting on me to go up to White Plains with her today. I do hope you all have a nice visit, though.”

“I’m so sorry,” Diana says desperately to Jane over and over as they walk back to the front entrance. “I meant to hang out with you today, honestly--”

“It’s perfectly fine, Diana,” Jane reassures her. “We can do something together next weekend. Knowing my father, we’ll have a huge fight and he’ll hand over his credit card in lieu of an apology.” She smiles. “If you’re free, we can go shopping then.”

“That sounds good,” Diana agrees in relief.

Harrison opens the door for Jane to leave, revealing Trixie, her hand poised in midair to ring the doorbell.

“Oh, hello, Diana, Jane, sir,” she says, offering a smile at Harrison. “I didn’t expect to see you, Jane. Will you be joining us?”

“Not today,” Jane says pleasantly. “I just stopped by to pick up some photos for the yearbook. Have a good day, all.” With a wave, she departs, walking toward her mother’s waiting car.

The mix-up leaves Diana ashamed, confused, and embarrassed, even if Jane was kind about it. She becomes even more uncomfortable throughout Trixie’s visit when it becomes clear that the lifestyle of her and her family has changed, but Trixie still expects her to be the same old Di. And Diana isn’t sure if she still is that person, or if she can even play the role.

Still upset about the entire incident, Diana finds herself declining Jane’s invitation for the next weekend.

“I’m really sorry, Jane,” Diana says, old and new guilt washing over her. “But my family is scheduled to visit my grandparents that day. I won’t have the time to go shopping with you.” The lie comes to her easily.

“No worries,” Jane says agreeably. “I could use the time to work on my science fair project. Oh! My Uncle David just gave me a puppy-- his name is Pepper, and he’s a Caucasian shepherd dog. You can come over and meet him when we choose a different day to hang out. Third time’s the charm, right?”

“Right,” Diana says, but her stomach lurches with the word. She loves Jane and considers her a good friend, but she doesn’t know how to explain her lies, or even why she felt like she should lie.

On Saturday, Diana’s mother drags her to the White Plains mall. Diana doesn’t object too much, and she’s also not worried-- after all, Jane said she was going to be working on her science fair project.

After buying miscellaneous items from shops they’d previously never been able to afford, Diana’s mother pushes her into a beauty salon and requests a complete makeover for Diana.

“You’re a very pretty girl, dear,” her mother says fondly. “It’s time you decided to use that to your advantage.”

Dutifully seating herself at one of the cosmetics stations, Diana waits patiently as the makeup artists match her skin tone and muse about blush and eyeshadow shades. She’s not paying much attention, but when she spots a familiar figure in the mirror, panic sets in.

Jane is here, standing about halfway across the store. And if she sees Diana, she’ll realize Diana lied to her about not being able to go shopping.

Shame floods Diana, and she turns her face away. Maybe Jane won’t recognize her.

No such luck. A split second after when Diana accidentally turns forward to glance at her reflection, Jane turns around and spots her in the mirror, offering a friendly smile and wave.

Feeling absolutely horrible for her deception, Diana looks away, pretending she doesn’t see Jane, but just then is joined by another familiar figure.

“Why, look who it is!” Trixie exclaims, strolling up to the cosmetics station. “Hey, Diana. How’s it going?”

“Trixie, what are you doing here?” Diana hisses. She can feel her face growing red.

“Moms is here to pick up some lipstick,” Trixie says. She makes a face. “She’s also having me try on all sorts of clothes. She’s probably going to give me some horrid dress or dumb high heels for my birthday.”

Mortified, Diana watches Jane in the mirror. At first, Jane appears to be confused at seeing Trixie with Diana, but then her expression morphs into a blend of hurt and anger. She turns away from Diana, and doesn’t look at her again before she leaves several minutes later, departing on her own.

The next week at school, Diana is enduring a now-normal part of her routine: get to class without meeting anyone’s eyes in the hall. She deliberately looks down at the ground to avoid even a single gaze, but this tactic proves to be faulty when it comes to rounding corners. She collides with another person, and her books scatter all over the floor. 

“I’m so sorry!” Diana exclaims, scrambling to retrieve her books as other students try to avoid tripping over them. “I’m sorry, I should have been looking where I was going--”

“Oh, it’s fine,” the other person soothes. “Oh, here’s one of your notebo--”

The abrupt pause brings Diana to look up at the other person, and to her dismay, it’s Jane.

Realizing identity of the person she’s trying to help, Jane drops the notebook, and it falls to the floor with a slap. Standing, Jane pointedly ignores Diana, brushes off her skirt, and strides past her.

More ashamed and embarrassed of herself than ever, Diana merely watches her former friend walk away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane's home life reaches a crisis point.

**Jane, Age 14**

During Jane’s freshman year of high school, her parents’ arguments are just as vicious as ever, but not as frequent. Instead, a constant tension simmers in the air, lurking just beneath the surface, about to boil over at any moment. The atmosphere of the house is suffocating, and, continuing a strategy she developed in middle school, Jane does all she can to stay away. Signing up for every extracurricular activity imaginable, Jane arranges to spend most of her time at school, thus limiting the house to just being a place to rest and refuel.

Due to all of her activities, Jane knows a lot of different people. But, oddly, she never feels connected to them. And only sometimes does she ever want to feel connected to them. She talks to them, she laughs with them, she compliments them, but never does she feel like she fits in with them. It’s as though a deep gap separates her from other people, and she can’t quite manage to build a bridge-- and most of the time, Jane doesn’t want to. Maybe it’s self-protectiveness born from her home life. Maybe she simply doesn’t have the ability to form meaningful relationships. Whatever it is, Jane is too drained to care all that much.

She doesn’t hang out with Trixie or Diana anymore. Whenever Jane’s thoughts veer in the direction of her two former friends, her heart floods with anger and bitterness. Unbelievable, that Diana ditched her for Trixie, not once but twice. And to think, Diana lied to her both times. No doubt she was inwardly sneering at Jane throughout both conversations and repeated the conversation to Trixie later so the two of them could giggle and gossip about Jane’s family.

How long had it been going on? How long ago did Diana and Trixie decide they wanted to hurt her when the opportunity arose, and when had they decided to work together? Was Diana simply tired of Jane and her family’s drama? If that’s the case, Jane can’t even blame her for it. God, she must have been eternally blind and naive not to recognize their scheming. Though Jane would be lying if she said she didn’t hate the two of them for their malice, most of all, she loathes herself for being fooled.

At school, her main circle of friends is now Patti Morris and her clique of girls. Jane and Patti were science partners in the eighth grade, and sort of became friends by default. Most of their classwork was completed by Jane, simply out of necessity-- Patti’s father is on the school board, and apparently pulled some strings to have Patti assigned to the advanced science class despite her lack of merit.

It’s after an evening at Patti’s house that Jane and her father have one of their worst arguments to date. Jane waits outside for her father, and runs up to his car the moment he pulls up. He doesn’t greet her-- presumably, he’s angry he has to “play chauffeur” for her.

Ignoring him as he ignores her, Jane pulls out a book and begins to read.

The car ride passes in silence, and it’s only as they’re walking into the house that either of them speaks.

“What are you reading?” Her father asks neutrally.

“The Stepford Wives,” Jane says. “By Ira Levin.”

Her father’s tone is snide when he replies. “ _The Stepford Wives_? Really?”

“Is there a problem?” Jane knows she shouldn’t pursue this conversation but does so anyway. She follows her father into the living room, where her mother is sipping a cup of tea.

“I think that book is fundamentally immature,” her father opines. “People are lying? People are deceiving each other? Welcome to the NFL, rookie! Sometimes people hurt each other. That’s part of life. It’s not news, and it’s certainly not worth it to write some moralizing lecture with the [ naïve ](https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/na%C3%AFve) hope that people will change.”  

“The point of the book was to show it’s wrong to expect women to be perfect all the time, and that it’s also wrong to punish them for not being perfect,” Jane responds stiffly.

The remark appears to touch a nerve.

“Oh, is it?” Her father replies mockingly. “Is that why you’re reading the book, Jane? Because you want to hear about how oppressed you are? How terrible it is for you that I break my back working to provide a good life for you? How everything in life in unjust and unfair? That if you don’t get something you want, it’s not because you didn’t put in enough effort or just flat out didn’t deserve to win, it’s because everyone else is conspiring against you?”

Jane’s heart is hammering. “That’s not what I think, and that’s not what _The Stepford Wives_ is about at all--”

“Sure, it’s not,” her father sneers.

“Let’s give an example,” Jane continues shakily. “Let’s say, maybe, that Mom--”

She doesn’t have the chance to finish. Her father leaps from his seat and rushes at her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her.

“YOUR MOTHER IS NOT A STEPFORD WIFE!” He screams directly into her face. “What about the Stepford Husband, huh? Doesn’t anyone give a damn about that? About _me_ ? What about all the lies I have to deal with, all the deceptions? Why doesn’t anyone care about what _I_ have to go through?”

During the entire argument, her mother does not once try to interject or intervene, instead just sits on the couch and drinks her tea.

Trembling, Jane detaches herself from his grasp and rushes to her room.

“If you want your life to be so terrible, I can make it terrible!” Her father shouts after her.

Drained to the point of numbness, Jane skips dinner and spends the evening paging through fashion magazines. Perhaps sensing her loneliness, Pepper, her Caucasian shepherd dog, barges into her room and curls up beside her. Jane absently strokes his fluffy coat as she pours over the glossy images. Vintage is coming back in again in the spring, and most of the outfits are simply darling, sweet yet sophisticated.

The argument between herself and her father flares into Jane’s mind again, though, the delightful retro outfits on the pages proving reminiscent of the costumes in the seventies _The_ _Stepford Wives_ movie.

The Stepford Wives. It would be a cinch to dress like one, especially with the vintage fashions becoming big this spring. It’s not like Jane doesn’t have near constant access to her father’s credit card, after all.

At that moment, Jane resolves to be a Stepford. To smile, to talk, to laugh, to charm, to seem pretty and carefree while hiding away all of the secrets and flaws that let her be complete person.

She’ll be a Stepford Wife, in a sense. Jane will be the perfect, obedient Stepford Daughter.

It’s what her father wants, after all.

* * *

Swim team soon becomes her favorite extracurricular once the season starts. There are no tryouts for the team, because they need every member they can get. The sport earns its place in Jane’s heart because practices go over two hours, and meets go up to nearly five, including warm-ups and bus rides.

Her parents leave her to her own devices where her free time is concerned, and Jane is relieved. At least some things can remain sacred.

However, her gratefulness is shattered one breakfast when her mother announces she’ll be attending Jane’s swim meet that night.

“Are you sure?” Jane asks skeptically. “I mean, it’s an away meet, at least a half hour’s drive.”

“Of course I’m sure!” Her mother’s bright smile seems artificial. “What will all the other parents think of me if I’m never there to cheer you on?”

Quite intentionally, Jane does not reply.

That night, though, she never sees her mother in the stands. It’s for the better, Jane decides. Besides, it’s not like her parents have never gone back on their promises before.

But when she exits the locker room, she finds her mother waiting for her.

“When did you get here?” Jane asks, surprised. “I didn’t see you earlier when I looked around.”

“Janey, I said I would be here. Of course I was going to be here.” Her mother giggles, and a suspicion rises within Jane.

“Let’s go, Mom,” Jane says, pulling her mother into the well-lit lobby, watching her mother’s eyes. As predicted, her mother’s pupils do not contract, and instead remain unflinchingly overblown.

Jane sighs. “Let’s go out to the car, Mom.” In all honesty, it isn’t safe for her mother to drive, but Jane honestly doesn’t give a damn. If they perish in a fiery collision, so be it.

On her way to the exit, Jane waves at her coaches, indicating she’s leaving with her mother rather than taking the bus back to Sleepyside. She’s certain that a few of her teammates notices her mother’s behavior, but Jane can’t worry about that right now.

“Where did you park, Mom?” Jane asks, trying to keep calm.

“Let’s see.” Her mother turns, swaying momentarily but managing not to fall. “I don’t know!” Her mother’s tone is riddled with dismay, like a child’s would be. “I don’t remember where I parked.”

“That’s okay,” Jane reassures her, though she’s privately seething. The winter night air is frigid, and her hair is still damp. “We’ll just check the parking lot.”

“I’m sorry, Jane,” her mother apologizes pitifully. “I don’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to see you.”

“We’ll find the car,” Jane says, forcing cheer into her voice, even though her ears are beginning to burn with cold.

They search the entire parking lot. Her mother’s car isn’t there.

“Now, I know I drove it here,” her mother says, as though the information is an earth-shattering revelation. “I wonder where I parked it.”

“So do I.” Jane reaches up and pats her hair, and is dismayed to find the tips hardening with frost.

The Sleepyside swim team bus pulls up in front of the building, and Jane watches with irritation as her classmates board, while at the same time, trying to hurry her mother in the opposite direction.

“Come on,” Jane says, wanting to get out of sight of her classmates as soon as possible. “There’s a parking lot on the other side of the building. You might have parked there.”

In fact, that is where they find the car.

“So that’s it!” Her mother exclaims. “I parked it _over here_!”

“Erudite,” Jane growls.

“Don’t be angry, Janey,” her mother says petulantly. “It’s not my fault. You’re the one who dragged me through that other set of doors instead of the ones where I came in.”

Jane just shakes her head. She’s too cold and tired to object to her mother driving, and in the end, they arrive home fine, despite a few close calls.

That night, sleep escapes Jane, warded off by her simmering anger and resentment. In an attempt to relax, Jane wanders to her bookshelf, hoping to find a book to take her mind away from her problems. Briefly, her eyes land on Shakespeare’s _Romeo and Juliet_.

That’s right. The ninth grade is putting on _Romeo and Juliet_ as a play, and tryouts are just after Christmas break. Jane feels her spirits lift. If she were to, say, try out for Juliet, it wouldn’t hurt anybody, would it?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana begins to see another side of Jane.

**Diana, Age 14**

The moment Mr. Sanborn starts passing back test papers at the end of class, Diana knows she’s in trouble. The test took place in the week before opening night of _Romeo and Juliet_ , and she didn’t study nearly as much as she should have.

The instant her paper touches her desk, Diana flips it over so no one, not even herself, can see her score. Carefully, she turns over one corner and glances at the grade.

Her heart plummets.

She’s failed. Again.

The moment the bell rings, Diana rushes out of class, trying to hide her test away in her binder as she walks. But not looking up as she walks brings her to crash into another student, spilling her books all over the floor.

“Jesus, Barbie, watch where you’re going,” the student complains. It’s Talon Beckholder, one of the biggest jerks in the school.

Gritting her teeth, Diana kneels to collect her belongings. She’s not going to apologize to him, not when he makes a point of acting so obnoxious all the time.

Just as she’s reaching for her fallen math test, Talon snatches it up, smirking.

“Not doing too well, are you?” He asks mockingly. “Looks like you’re one Barbie who’s not going to be a doctor, scientist, or astronaut. Better get used to getting down on your knees in front of guys.” He tosses her paper on the ground and saunters off.

Cheeks burning with humiliation, Diana grabs her paper off of the floor. As she shoves it into her binder, she can sense someone else’s eyes on her. She looks up to see Jane Sammael-- no, she’s using Morgan as her last name now-- watching while she exchanges books at her locker only a few feet away. She’d probably witnessed the entire scene, Diana realizes. God, what Jane, math prodigy extraordinaire, must think of her failing a simple algebra test. She must seem truly pathetic.

Extremely embarrassed, Diana hurries away.   

The rest of the week doesn’t improve, with her English teacher assigning a spring project that comprises of a fifth of their overall grade, and the introduction of a science unit she can’t understand no matter how many times she tries. On Friday before classes begin, when she hears Trixie and Honey planning to hang out on the weekend without even considering including her, Diana finally gives in to the impulse to cry. She retains sufficient control to prevent her tears till she enters the  girls’ restroom, blessedly empty, but then lets them roll freely down her face.

After crying for several minutes, Diana realizes she’s not alone in the bathroom, as she initially thought she was. She can hear all sorts of muffled clicks and snaps, and after searching her mind for several moments, she places the noises as cosmetic compacts and tubes being opened and closed.

Reaching for the handle of the stall, Diana inhales and exhales deeply. She doesn’t want to face anyone else right now, but she needs to make a cold compress to prevent her eyes from swelling, or else everyone will know she’s been crying.

Steeling herself, Diana rounds the corner to the sinks, then stops in surprise. Standing at the sinking, applying her makeup, is none other than Jane Morgan.

Jane catches her eyes in the mirror, and Diana is forcibly reminded of the time she ignored Jane at the beauty salon.

“Morning,” Jane says, briefly pausing her eye shadow application. She raises an eyebrow when Diana doesn’t respond.

With a deep breath, Diana takes a paper towel from the dispenser, and stands at the sink next to Jane, fixing a cold compress.

“Are you all right?” Jane inquires cautiously.

“Just a little bit of the blues,” Diana replies, forcing her tone to be light. Talking to Jane still makes her nervous.

Jane turns to face her. “I really meant my apology, you know. It was wrong of me to put you through all of that grief during the play. I’m sorry.”

Diana ducks her head. “I believe you.” With rapid movements, she applies to cold compress over her eyes and waits for a few minutes. Jane does not speak again, but is watching Diana when she removes the compress.

“I don’t think paper towels are going to do much good,” Jane says frankly. She gestures to her designer makeup bag. “But I could try to give your face a little bit of work, if you’d like.”

For a moment, Diana hesitates. Jane has been awfully rude to her throughout play preparations, but she’s apologized several times now. “Okay,” Diana agrees. “Just one thing.”

“Sure,” Jane says, readying her tools.

“Would you tell me what you’re doing when you’re putting on my makeup?” Diana requests sheepishly. “I don’t know, and I’d really like to learn.”

“No problem,” Jane says with a smile.

For a moment, Diana only stares in amazement. It’s been such a long time since she’s seen Jane smile, she’s forgotten how kind Jane looks when she actually does.

Jane finishes cleaning off her brushes with a makeup remover towelette, and selects a tube from her makeup bag. “Skin luminizer,” she explains. “It’s not a highlighter, or a primer, or concealer, but sort of like a combination of all three. It’s for days when your skin looks dull.”

“Will the shade look okay?” Diana asks anxiously.

“We should be fine, as we’re both very fair-skinned. Just a little bit of this stuff, and no one will ever be able to tell you were crying.” She lightly dots all over Diana’s face with the liquid, then uses a sponge to blend.

“And now for concealer.” Jane dabs beneath Diana’s face with a different sponge.

“That color looks awfully bright for something that’s meant to blend into the skin,” Diana ventures, eyeing the salmon-colored cream dubiously.

“It’s to cancel out your dark circles,” Jane explains. “Don’t worry, Diana. I know what I’m doing when it comes to makeup.” She lifts a white eye shadow crayon. “Tilt your head back. I’m going to use this as a wash across your eyes.”

“For a base, right?” Diana queries.

“Right,” Jane tells her as she fills in Diana’s eyelids. “I hate cream eye shadow primers. I’ve used Urban Decay, Too-Faced, even Tom Ford, but it never works well, always creasing and flaking by the end of the day. I swear, it saps the color out of the eye shadow, too. But a shimmery white like this will really make your eye shadow pop.”

She leans back to consider Diana. “Do you want to go for a bold eye look, or something simple, like neutrals?”

“Bold,” Diana says instantly. She’s weary of being the same old predictable Diana, who fails tests and quietly accepts that her friends ignore her. She wants something different for once.

Jane proceeds with the eye shadow, and then applies mascara. “I’m not going to try coloring your brows,” she explains. “I’m blonde, you’re brunette, so I don’t have a matching pencil. I suppose I could use black eye shadow, but I’ve never lined black eyebrows before, and I don’t want to risk ruining your makeup.”

“Probably for the best,” Diana agrees.

She dusts several powders over Diana’s face. “Light pink blush, just to give your face some color. It’s a tea rose shade, so it’s not wild and won’t clash with your eye shadow, and I have just the lipstick to match. Highlighter, to bring in some light to your face-- there are also liquid and cream highlighters, but I’ve always thought the powder kinds work best. And now, just a plain translucent powder to set it all in place.”

Diana turns away from Jane and sneezes several times.

Rummaging in her makeup train case, Jane withdraws a Burberry lipstick and its matching lip liner, both still in their wrappers.

“Hold still when I use the liner to fill in your lips,” Jane commands, tearing the shrink wrap from the pencil.

“‘Fill in’?” Diana repeats blankly. “Isn’t lip liner, supposed to, you know, outline?”

“I prefer to line, then fill in the lips entirely.” Jane carefully colors Diana’s lips. “I think it makes the lipstick last longer.”

She draws the lipstick across Diana’s lips several times, slowly, ensuring the coat is even. “You can keep this lipstick and liner when I’m done.”

“Are you sure?” Diana questions. “They look so expensive.”

Jane waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Even if I didn’t have three other colors exactly like this one, I mostly wear liquid lipsticks these days, anyway.” She nods at Diana. “You’re done,” she says with satisfaction.

Diana turns and stares into the mirror in shock. Not only does she look at least seventeen, but she also looks sophisticated, cutting edge. Even the usually unflattering fluorescent lights of the bathroom can’t find a flaw. The best part is her eyes, though. Iridescent silvery white shadow starts at the inner corners, fading into the palest lavender, which gradually darkens across her lids till the outer corner, forming a gradient of violet across her eyes. Sleek silver eyeliner completes the look, adding an urbane, almost dangerous, final touch.

Diana looks stylish. Tough. Like she could be the heroine in the action movies who fights the villains while wearing a skin tight leather outfit and stiletto heels. She really needed something like this-- not makeup necessarily, but something to transform her, something to give her confidence.

Turning to Jane, who’s already started clean her brushes again, Diana gives her a winning smile.

“Thank you so much, Jane,” Diana says gratefully.

“No problem,” Jane replies casually. “And you know, Diana, if you ever wanted someone to tutor you in math, I wouldn’t mind meeting you a few times a week.”

Though, the unsolicited offer raises Diana’s suspicions, she can’t help but be both impressed and appreciative. “Really?” She asks cautiously.

“Really,” Jane responds, with a genuine smile. The expression, one of legitimate, untainted happiness, seems nearly foreign on her features.

And then, in a move that takes both Jane and Diana herself by surprise, Diana wraps her arms around Jane in a tight hug.


	10. Chapter 10

**Jane, Age 14**

The restaurant in White Plains is beautiful, likely one of the best in Westchester County. Massive sparkling chandeliers dangle from the ceiling, giving the room a soft glow rather than a bright light. Every part of the room seems to glitter-- the centerpieces, the crystal decanters, and the jewelry of the diners all gleam, reflecting the light. The tables are spaced far apart from one another to give a sense of privacy. 

The view from where Jane and her father are seated is of a courtyard filled with gardens, fountains, and fairy lights. In the spring, it will open for patio seating, but now it’s left desolate and frozen, a wonderland fallen into the despair of winter.

Nothing good can come from her father taking her out to dinner. Opening night of  _ Romeo and Juliet _ was exactly one week ago. Today is the first Friday in six weeks Jane didn’t have to stay after school to work on costumes or sets.

Neither Jane nor her father introduces conversation until well after the food arrives. Most of the dinner consists of their cutlery clinking against their plates, or occasionally speaking to the waitress when she stops by their table.

Only a few bites of filet mignon remain on Jane’s plate when her father finally speaks.

“You might have realized that your mother has left me,” he says, in a tone that veers near conversational.

“Yes.” Jane spears several sauteed mushrooms. “I’m aware.”

“We’re divorcing.” Her father sips his wine. “And I’m remarrying.”

Jane’s fork screeches across her plate. “ _ What _ ?”

“Her name is Suzanne,” her father says briefly. “‘Zanne’ for short. She has two boys, a six-year-old and an eight-year-old. You’ll be watching them for us when we’re out.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Jane stares at her father. “All your outrage in elementary school because I was worried you and Mom might divorce. And now you’re divorcing her and instantly marrying your side dish?”

Her father flushes. “Young lady, I won’t have you speaking about Zanne with that attitude--”

“Zanne can rot in hell for all I care,” Jane says pleasantly. “Tell me, did Mom leave because she realize what a colossal mistake she made by marrying you, or because you told her you were divorcing her to marry the other woman?”

A moment passes in silence, and Jane’s father did not respond.

“That’s why Bill went to live with Uncle David, isn’t it?” Jane asks quietly. “Not because of the divorce itself, but because he found out you were planning on forcing Mom out of the picture so you could start shacking up with someone else.”

“You will not talk to me so disrespectfully,” her father blusters. “Not with everything I do for you, all the sacrifices I make for you--”

“What about all I went through because of you and Mom?” Jane challenges. “What about the time you refused to listen when some other kid tried to drown me, and I ended up needing stitches when you made me walk home alone? What about all the arguments I’ve been forced to listen to because you two refused to work out your issues like adults? What about when you’ve been really, really obvious with your cheating? What about when Mom showed up high to one of my swim meets?

“Word got out at school about the last two incidents,” Jane continues, a misplaced sense of calm washing over her. “Patti and her friends ditched me because of them. Not because of me myself, but because of my ‘trainwreck family,’ as they so kindly put it.”  

“It’s not within my control that you spend your time with unreliable people,” her father snipes.

“No, but it is within your control to grow up and realize your actions affect other people.” Jane gazes at her father evenly. “I make mistakes, Dad. In the past month or so, I’ve made some pretty significant ones. But you know what? When people called me on acting like total jackass, I admitted it. I apologized. And,” she adds, remembering when Diana returned her rings, and when she gave Diana makeup tips, “I worked to make up for them. Not to moralize, but I really do think admitting when you’re wrong and asking for forgiveness shows strength of character.”

Her father gives her a sarcastic smile. “What a nice little sermon, Jane. I really appreciate being lectured on life’s virtues by a high school freshman.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jane stands, shoving back her chair. “I’m done with this, Dad. I’m just completely done with you and your sarcasm and your demands and your orders and your relentless bullshit. Find some other caretaker for your illegitimate children.” She strides away from the table.

Sputtering, her father calls after her. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“I’m walking home,” Jane informs him. “But I’m sure you’re familiar with that concept, aren’t you?”

Retrieving her coat from the check room, Jane tips the attendant and proceeds out the front door. The night air is bitterly cold and the wind knifes through the skirt of her gauzy cocktail dress, but powered by years of anger, pain, and frustration, the chill doesn’t register to Jane.

Ever since that day when Diana ditched her to hang out with Trixie-- for the second time-- Jane’s resented both of them. When Trixie assembled a personal clique, even outfitting them with jackets, and invited Diana to join, Jane was at once disgusted and envious. When Diana won the role of Juliet, Jane felt the same way all over again.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Trixie and Diana were raised by parents that loved them. It wasn’t fair that Jane’s parents hated each other more than they loved their children. It wasn’t fair that Diana got to be Juliet even when she wasn’t very good.

But that’s the way of the world, and Jane’s shoulders slump, the cold biting at her as she acknowledges the truth of the statement. Sometimes, life simply  _ isn’t _ fair.

But then, Jane reasons, sometimes people can be fair to each other. Jim Frayne was nice to her, even though he had no reason to be. The Lynches welcomed her into their home for the cast party, even though Diana could have turned her away. And, again today, Diana allowed Jane to help her with her makeup, even hugging her afterwards. 

Before that, Jane can’t even remember the last time someone hugged her. 

Moving forward against the frigid winter wind, Jane begins the long walk back to Sleepyside.


End file.
